The Shadow of Your Smile
by Hayseed Socrates
Summary: Set post Green Thumb. While Jane is trying to earn Lisbon's trust, and eventually her love, unexpected developments threaten to have disastrous consequences. Turns out Jane isn't the only one who wants his revenge.
1. Chapter 1

These characters do not belong to me, and I am borrowing them only for fun. I receive no money for this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**AN: I sat down to write a sweet, angsty letter from exiled Jane to Lisbon, and it didn't happen. Besides, others have already written that much better than I could. I decided to start a multichapter story instead. I'm probably insane. I hope you enjoy it. Here's the Prologue for ****_Shadow of Your Smile_****. **

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All I see for months is white. White walls. White uniforms. White ceiling. Even the floor tiles are white. They say I've been here for five months, but it's all a white blur. They talk to me. They give me drugs. None of that is going to undo what has been done. My reason to count the days is gone and what I need is a release from my pain.

There's a new woman – a psychiatrist – who came to talk to me today. She told me I had a choice. That I could give up and die, or I could live. Why would I want to live, when the most important thing in my life is gone? She doesn't understand. She can't.

But I have a plan. I've stolen a piece of sharp metal from the frame of a window in the showers, and tonight I'm going to end my bleak and useless existence once and for all.

With a heavy "clunk" of the door latch, they lock me in my sparse room for the evening - a prisoner left with no companions but my own despair and that dank, institutional smell. The light shining in from the hall through the window in my door illuminates a distorted rectangle on the floor, the only light in the room. I retrieve the piece of metal from my pocket and without hesitation, make a cut on my wrist. Not deep enough, but there is no hurry. I watch it bleed in the dim light. The deep red is a relief from all the white.

I rise, walk to the window, and peer out to make sure there is no one in the hall. Then I smear my fingers in the blood on my wrist and draw Red John's signature smiley face on the glass.

I return to my seat on the cot, and I'm about to cut deeper, to finish the job, when something on the floor catches my eye. In the rectangle of light, the shadow of Red John's face smiles up at me. I have an epiphany staring at that dark upside down smile. For in that moment, I realize I _do_ have a reason to live. I must kill the man who did this. This man who took everything I loved, everything I lived for? He must be punished.

A sense of purpose floods my being, and I wrap my wrist with a pillow case, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. I will live. The doctor is right. I have a choice, and I have just made it.

In a month, I am lucent and healthy again, off medication, and ready to leave the hospital.

"Thank you, doctor," I tell her sincerely.

"Be well," she says, as I go for my final exit interview.

I sit in the big leather chair opposite the director of the facility. After some chit chat, he asks, "Do you still think of harming yourself?"

"No," I answer truthfully. "I want to live." _So I can find him. So I can hurt him. So I can make him pay._

"I'm glad to hear that. You've made a remarkable recovery."

"Thank you for all your help."

"Remember, you can always give us a call if you need to."

"I'll keep that in mind," I assure him.

There is a chilly wind blowing as I step out of the hospital into the world, but I am hardly aware of it, because I am on fire with purpose - one righteous purpose only. I'm going to find this man who killed my savior, Red John, or I wasn't born Michael Kirkland. I owe this to the man who showed me a better life, a higher path, for I loved him dearly.

And when I find the man who killed Red John - and I will - I am going to make him sorry. So very, very sorry. I am going to hurt him until he begs to die.

A smile spreads over my face for the first time in months. It'll be fun.

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(to be continued)

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So, what do you think? When Jane returns to the States, little does he know, the man who was Michael Kirkland is looking for him. Is this something people would be interested in reading?


	2. Send in the Clowns - Chapter 2

I don't own The Mentalist (though I would like to), and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just playing around with these characters.

**Author's Notes: Sorry it has taken me to long to continue this story. It's been crazy around my house for the holidays. The title is taken from the great Sondheim song – here's the beginning to the lyrics:**

Isn't it rich?

Are we a pair?

Me here at last on the ground,

You in mid-air.

Send in the clowns.

**I apologize for the exposition contained in this chapter, but this could easily be a twelve chapter story, and I simply don't have time to write that much. As it is, I plan three chapters, and hope to have it done by next Sunday before the show starts up. We'll see how it goes. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading. Also, a special thanks to that guest who left me those reviews on "We Will Fly" and "Dance Me." You made my week.**

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JANE

"Okay, Lisbon, I didn't think about you," he'd admitted reluctantly.

"You rarely do," she had snapped back at him on that plane ride from New York.

Maybe he hadn't thought about her reaction to that particular escape, but dammitalltohell, Jane had thought about Teresa Lisbon an awful lot. More than he would ever admit. But after he'd run to South America as a fugitive, he'd been conflicted and confused, and more than a little lost. He'd drifted in and out of time, only to wake up and find two years had passed.

During the time he'd been wandering around on a beach, Lisbon had picked herself up, found a new job, and made a new life – a life without him. She'd even bought a house. Those heartfelt letters were appreciated, sure, but for all Lisbon knew, she would never see him again. She'd moved on. Of course she had.

Even though he had thought about her at nearly every turn_, _his gargantuan mistake was that he never thought of things strictly fr_om her point of view_. Yes, her words had cut deeply, and worse than that, he had deserved them, he admitted begrudgingly. He had even more to atone for than he realized.

Jane was immensely relieved when she decided to take the FBI job. Lisbon even seemed excited about the prospect of them being partners again. She'd brought him socks! He couldn't begin to explain how much that had touched him. He hadn't received many presents since...since Angela. A few small things from his team members at the CBI over the years, but nothing domestic, like this. Yes, those socks warmed his heart much more than they warmed his feet, and they did that very well.

The truth of the matter was, the moment he'd seen Teresa Lisbon sitting in that room at the Austin FBI, on that day he returned to the US, he'd known that he was in love with her. He'd always loved her, of course, but anything more than close friendship was not something he could afford back then. Not with Red John still alive. The warm rush he'd felt inside when he laid on eyes her again had confirmed what she meant to him, so much so that he'd found it difficult to tear his gaze away. She was like water to him, necessary and wonderful, and he was a man who had gone far too long without a drink.

That realization motivated him even more to hold out for his terms with Abbott. He wanted a new life, a free life, and he wanted it with Teresa Lisbon. If she'd have him. He knew him and she loved him anyway, or she had, at some point. He saw it in her eyes that day he left her on the beach. That day she trusted him with her gun, in the park.

But what he hadn't considered, was that while he was drifting along on a tropical island, trying to get his shit together, Lisbon's feelings might have changed. She seemed to view him in an entirely different light now, and obviously not one conducive to any type of long term relationship. He was only beginning to appreciate how hard it must have been for her after he left (again). She'd had to start over, plagued by the handicap of the mess he had made for her.

What a fool he'd been to think a few letters would be enough. He supposed, in his fantasies, Lisbon would have shown up on the island and they'd have walked the beaches of paradise into their old age. But he knew better. Lisbon was far too practical and she would have been right. It wasn't what either of them needed.

With Lisbon's mile high confessions, Jane was forced to reevaluate the situation, and so he would. He had some things to prove to this wonderful woman. He would wear her down with consistency, charm, and dependability. He would show her he could be trusted. In the course of solving crimes together, she would remember how well they clicked. Jane was a man with a new mission, and he found the challenge invigorating.

The first thing he did was locate a suitable campground a few miles outside of Austin, and there he parked his Airstream, overlooking a gorgeous little river. He would fix the trailer up, make it homey. Show Lisbon he was making a permanent change. He could be domestic as hell – he had been once – he could be again. After they'd solved a few cases and things were going well between them, he'd invite her over for a trailer warming. Maybe they could talk about things then, sitting out under the stars. He'd waited this long, and he would wait as long as it took. Teresa Lisbon was worth it..

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**One month later**

LISBON

Things were going very well, Lisbon thought as she finished up the report on her desk Last night they'd gotten in from a case in St. Louis. She and Jane had worked together seamlessly – with Cho's help – to solve an important child pornography case, and Abbott and Fisher were starting to realize just what an asset they had on their hands.

Even better, it hadn't been _only_ Jane, but the combination of her attention to detail, Cho's no nonsense style, and Jane's unconventional tactics that had netted the guy. Their team was a well-oiled, bad guy catching machine. Abbott had even surprised her this morning by coming in and praising her work, telling her that now he understood why Jane had made her his one, non negotiable demand. Jane was right. This beat the hell out of DUI's and bike thefts. She was doing good work, and she was having fun.

Since their little chat on the plane, Jane had been very careful not to overstep his bounds, never assuming things for her, and for that, she was both surprised and grateful. Plus, it wasn't an accident that she was receiving plenty of credit for her part in their recent successes. Jane was making sure everyone noticed, and she appreciated that. She would take his behavior as the apologetic peace offering that it no doubt was. In short, he was making every effort to be a great friend.

There was no denying, even during the chase for Red John, that Patrick Jane was the best friend she'd ever had. In their ten years together at the CBI, he had gotten to know her like no one else. He noticed her ups, her downs, the reasons she did what she did, and it felt good to know someone cared. When he left – and she supposed she'd denied that would ever happen, despite his straightforward warnings – it hurt like hell. He was her best friend and a huge part of her life, and suddenly he was gone. Just like that.

She survived. She made a new life for herself. But the memory of that experience made her cautious. Now she had him back, and she never wanted to lose her best friend again.

That's where it got complicated. She sensed that Jane was different now, and between his letters and his demeanor when he returned, she thought he was beginning to see her in a different light. Not just as a friend, but as a woman. As a potential mate, for the lack of a better word. He knew her, but she knew him as well, and the look in his eye was different. More…intimate.

It's not that she wasn't attracted to him. She was. She did love him, in a way, and she had for years. But if their relationship moved toward the romantic sort of love, she was fearful of the possible outcome. If it didn't work out, for whatever reason, she'd be in danger of losing her best friend yet again. She wasn't sure she wanted to take that chance. They were good like this. She was having fun, and a risk like that loomed large. Too uncertain. Too frightening. She needed something firm under her feet, and their renewed friendship fit the bill.

At noon, she headed down to the FBI cantina for a bite of lunch. While she was in line, the TV was hyping the upcoming Bears/Packers game, and the man standing behind her was talking to his buddy. "The Bears are gonna cream the Packers tonight." He was tall, square jawed, and ridiculously handsome in a very Midwestern sort of way. He spoke with a Chicago accent.

The agent he was with, a short little stub of a man, wasn't so sure. "It's Thursday and I don't think Cutler's had time to get over that ankle sprain on Sunday. I'm going with Green Bay."

Impulsively, Lisbon turned around and said, "The Bears are going to mop the floor with Packers."

Hot guy flashed a devastating smile, and perked right up. "See!" he said to his fellow agent. "Here's a lady who has her football straight."

They struck up a conversation. Hot guy's name was Phillip Rawlings. He told her to call him Phil. Phil was a Chicago native, and worked on the HAZMAT team. And boy was he one fine looking man. They talked their way through lunch, and as they parted, Phil asked Lisbon, "Hey, Teresa, would you be interested in coming over and watching the game at my place tonight? I'm having a few friends. That guy you work with – Jane? Are you all…together? Because he could come too, if you want."

"Oh, no," she scoffed, "we're just partners. We're good friends, of course, but no funny business. He's not much of a football fan, either."

He laughed. "Well, that's good news for me, then. Wanna watch the game?"

"Um," she hesitated, but then shook off her reluctance, and cheerfully accepted, "Yes. I'd love to."

"Great, we'll probably get started about 6:30. Beer and chili provided."

"Should I bring something?"

"Just yourself."

Unless all those years learning from Jane were for naught, Lisbon was pretty sure this guy was attracted to her. Well, well, well. She could live with that idea.

He pulled out his phone. "Give me your number and I'll text you my address. It's not hard to find. I know you're new to the city and all."

"Thanks," she said, reciting her number.

"See you tonight," Phil smiled. He really did have a nice smile.

There was a little lilt in Lisbon's step as she made her way back up to her desk. Maybe this was just what the doctor ordered. She'd been back at her desk mere minutes when Jane showed up. There was something about him that caught her attention. He had that look that he got when he was up to something. Now that she wasn't his boss, she really didn't have to worry about that, but old habits die hard.

"What's going on?" she questioned him as examined her baseball paperweight.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked. "You didn't have it at the CBI."

"My brother sent it to me."

"Ah," he said. She knew he didn't care one whit about the paperweight. He was here for another reason, and she soon found out why.

"Hey, Lisbon, how'd you like to come out this afternoon and see what I've done with the Airstream? We've put in so much overtime the last few days, I'm sure we're due an early out today. It's gorgeous outside."

She put down her form and considered his offer. It _was_ a pretty day, sunny and not too hot, and it would be a good afternoon to take off early. Plus she was curious, since all of his living areas before had been so spartan. She wondered what kind of decorating he had done. "Got it all fixed up with lava lamps and black lights?"

"You wound me, woman," he feigned offense.

"Yeah, Jane, I'd like to see your place. I should be able to get out of here by three," she said with a grin.

"Splendid," he replied, and he did a little soft shoe right out of the office.

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JANE

He left straight away to tidy up the Airstream. Of course, he had a plan. He'd give her the tour, and then take her down to the river for a walk. Then he would suggest that she stay for a bite to eat. She'd accept and he would grill dinner for them. Afterward, they could sit out under the stars and have a good talk. He'd play it by ear, but if things went well, he might even mention the possibility that they go out sometime and see how she reacted. He knew he must take this in baby steps, earning her trust ever so slowly, but suggesting a dinner date didn't seem too rash at this point.

He had just slipped the kabobs into the fridge to marinate when he saw her pull in and park her Mustang in the visitor's parking lot up by the office. Three thirty - right on time. She could have pulled on down to his trailer, but Lisbon being Lisbon, she obeyed the "residents only" sign that marked the gravel driveway. Jane walked up to meet her halfway.

"I had no idea there were places like this in Texas," she smiled, appreciating the huge cottonwoods and the lush vegetation along the river. A gentle breeze blew some strands of her beautiful hair across her face. Jane wanted badly to reach over and rearrange it just so he could feel the silky strands in his hands. It was much harder to conceal his feelings away from the office. He put his hands in his pockets instead, and they strolled down the gravel path to his trailer. There was an good sized awning off the side of his Airstream, and the small table and chairs under it had a partial view of the river through the trees. She smiled and nodded her approval. "This is great."

"Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," he grinned as he opened the door and motioned her up the steps into the trailer.

"Wow!" she said, looking around the interior. Everything was done tastefully - for a trailer. There were ivory curtains and all the seating was upholstered in a rich cocoa fabric. A few bright decorative pillows gave it color and there was a linen cloth on the table, adorned with fresh flowers in a glass vase.

"I had no idea a trailer could took this, well…homey."

He beamed. "Thanks, Lisbon. I'm glad you like it. I'm rather proud of it myself."

"Is that a queen bed?" she asked, walking over to the other end of the trailer. "Amazing how much you can get into one of these things."

"Yup. Tempurpedic," he beamed, pushing down on the foam. If there was one thing about the trailer he'd love for Lisbon to appreciate, it was the bed.

It was covered with a quilt of tweed squares. "Oooh, "she cooed, examining the fabric. "My grandmother used to make quilts, but they were cotton. This is pieces of wool, isn't it? It's beautiful work."

"This is a genuine Irish tweed – made in Donnegal. Got it from Sky Mall." He'd had plenty of time to read the magazines during _that_ plane ride. The one when Lisbon had wasted no time establishing that things were different now. When she'd reminded him in no uncertain terms that he had failed her. That she made her own decisions based on what was best for her. That he no longer hand any sway over those decisions. _That_ plane ride.

The reference was not lost on her, and her gaze fell to the floor, making it impossible for him to read her thoughts. She started to say something else, and then stopped herself.

"What?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Nothing."

"Oh, c'mon, Lisbon."

"It's just…" she looked away, avoiding his eyes. "This is so much different than that horrible attic. " She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "I'm so glad you're not there anymore."

Jane was encouraged. He wanted her to realize things were a lot different for him now, and this was a start. "Hey," he said cheerfully, letting her know he wasn't bothered by what she'd just said. "Would you like to walk down to the river? It's beautiful down there."

"Sure," she agreed, with a smile in her voice. He noticed a change, a softening. Just a hint, but significant.. O_h this was good_, he thought. _Very, very good_.

They exited the trailer, heading down the path to the river corridor proper, and spent the next half hour walking the shore. When they had to walk across a log to get over a marshy area, Lisbon even accepted the hand he offered to steady her. His entire body tingled at her touch, and he had to stifle a goofy grin. This was going so well, he mused happily.

When they made their way back up to his trailer, he motioned her to a seat at the little table under his awning. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'd love one," she smiled.

"Diet Coke? Beer? Glass of wine?"

"Aren't you the host?" she quipped, raising her eyebrows. "Diet Coke, please."

He fetched them each a soda – cool drinks on a warm afternoon – and sat beside her in the other chair. Her expression was unguarded and serene. She was obviously enjoying the moment. This was good, Jane thought. Maybe now was the time.

"You know, I've got some kebobs marinating. The new grill needs christening – he waved a hand toward the yet unused hibachi. How about if I whip us up some dinner?" He was very excited about how the afternoon was going, and he had to employ his best poker face not to let it show.

"Oh, you know Jane, that sounds nice, but I've got to go in a few minutes." She glanced at her watch. "It's already five. Thanks, though."

"Oh, c'mon Lisbon, it's a beautiful afternoon. We could eat here, outside. What do you have on tonight, anyway?" he asked innocently, expecting a haircut or the like.

"I'm going to watch the Bears game," she explained. "I've…" she hesitated, but then squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "I've got a date."

"Oh," was the only reply he could manage, and it required all of his mentalist training to keep from reacting to that punch in the gut. Actually, he wasn't sure he succeeded entirely, from the look on Lisbon's face. She could see something was amiss.

She didn't explain, though, or tell him who she was going out with. Nope, this was a clear statement. _I decide what is good for me._

He knew he had to be gracious and accept this for the time being. Maybe she was testing him. Whatever the situation, he realized this was going to be even harder than he had imagined. She stood to leave and thanked him, complimenting his trailer one more time, but her words failed to cheer him.

A date. Lisbon was going on a date. But not with him. Patrick Jane had some thinking to do.

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KIRKLAND

Michael Kirkland lowered his binoculars and smiled. He had waited nearly two years after getting out of the hospital, but his friends at the FBI had finally come through and let him know that the man he hunted was back in the country. Gary Smith had quit his job and headed for Texas the very day he found out Jane was free. Kirkland had been Gary Smith for fifteen years – a necessary alias to avoid his brother's prying. But with no one looking for him now, he could be Michael Kirkland again, and it felt good.

So here he was, perched on a rise over a Texas RV park, watching Patrick Jane, the man who had taken Red John from him. The man who had killed his savior.

Red John had showed him the way. All Michael's life he had been part of the darkness. He enjoyed hurting people just like some people enjoyed reading books or watching TV. He enjoyed their pain. Everyone, all of his life, had made him feel guilty for that thing that was so instinctive to him. That gave him joy. Not Red John. He understood, and he explained how important darkness was to society. What a vital role it played. And how he, Michael Kirkland, could be of use. Valuable.

Whenever Red John needed a particular type of job done, he'd called upon Kirkland to do it for him. He'd tortured and killed many people for his master. Now Michael missed being so important and vital in such a powerful network. Patrick Jane had taken all that away from him. And for that, Jane would surely pay.

Jane couldn't have made himself an easier target. The RV park was an active place, easy to come and go without being spotted. As best he could tell, this little cop woman who had just left was the first and only visitor that he'd had. She must be the partner his contact in the FBI had told him about. She drove a blue Mustang, so that would be easy to watch out for when he decided to make his move. This was going to be child's play.

First, he had work to do. Finding a house to rent was the first order of business. Someplace secluded and private – that shouldn't be too hard in Texas. There he would treat Mr. Jane to the last days of his life in pure misery. He would make him sorry for what he had done to Red John – so very, very sorry.

And it was going to be fun.

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JANE

Two weeks had passed since Lisbon's visit to his trailer. Since then, she had been out on four dates with 'Captain America', Jane's new name for Special Agent Phillip Rawlings. Ever curious, he'd watched them during lunch the other day, and he had come away with the observation that Lisbon wasn't just doing this to spite him. Jane was quite concerned. She really did _like_ Phillip Rawlings.

That disturbing revelation had given Jane a lot to think about. He loved Teresa Lisbon dearly. He wanted her to be happy, and he thought he could make her happy. But what if he was simply refusing to see things from her point of view again? What if she would actually _be happier_ with someone like Captain America? He wanted to dismiss that notion, but it nagged at him relentlessly. No, it did more than that - it kept him up at night. Seven or eight years ago, he would have been delighted if Lisbon had found love with someone. She certainly deserved happiness. A lot had happened since then, however. He'd come to depend on her. To love her. Now he wanted to be the one she found happiness with.

Jane could certainly go after the man. There was no doubt in his mind that he could find some way to discredit him – to 'beat' him and drive a wedge between him and Lisbon. However, doing that wouldn't get him what he wanted. Lisbon's heart wasn't something he could win by beating someone in some elaborate scam. She must choose him, Patrick Jane, _of her own accord_ for this to turn out the way he wanted it to. He wasn't about to give Lisbon up without a fight, however, even if he had to play fair. So, when he spied Phillip Rawlings in the hall later that day, he decided to become proactive. He needed more information.

"Hey, Phillip Rawlings?" Jane greeted him amiably and extended his hand. "Patrick Jane."

Rawlings' shake was firm and dry. "Hello. I can't believe we haven't met yet."

"Yes, it's about time. We should get to know each other, don't you think?" Jane supposed.

"We certainly should. Teresa has told me so much about you."

"Well then, why wait any longer?" Jane adopted his best 'man buddy' persona. "Why don't you drive out to my place after work? Have a beer. We can get to know each other properly."

"Tonight?" Rawlings eyed Jane with some suspicion.

Jane wondered just what Lisbon had told Captain America about him. "Sure, why not? Or are you and Lisbon doing something?" Jane knew full well she had other plans tonight.

Found without an excuse, Rawlings agreed. "Okay. Yeah, that'd be great."

"What's your favorite brew? No – wait." Jane made a show of looking the other man over, and then stated, "Heineken."

"Teresa must have told you."

"Nope, just a good guess. You look like a Heineken man." Phil glanced down at his attire, a bit unnerved. 'I'll have some cold ones in the fridge," Jane continued, ignoring the man's discomfort. "See you after work then?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Looking forward to it."

He was lying about that part, Jane was sure, and he rubbed his fingers together as the agent disappeared down the hall. _Why did this guy have to be so damn nice? And handsome? _He had some research to do before tonight.

Teresa was out all afternoon, gone down to the San Antonio office for some special training session. She wouldn't be back until late tonight. Not only could she not thwart this meeting, if he was lucky, she might never need to know about it at all.

Patrick Jane smiled.

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I'd love to hear any comments you have so far. Something tells me things aren't going to go quite the way Jane plans….

[Cue dissonant organ music]

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	3. I Didn't Get to Sleep at All - Chapter 3

I do not own The Mentalist characters, and I intend no copyright infringement. I'm just having fun and occupying myself until the next episode airs.

AN: Thanks so much to the kind reviewers for your support! This chapter is a bit short, but there won't be a good stopping place for quite a while after this one. The title is taken from the old 5th Dimension song.

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ABBOTT

The ring of his phone jarred Dennis Abbott awake. He pulled the sleep mask from his eyes as he rolled toward his nightstand and squinted at the screen. _Franklin Spivey? The Chief of the Texas Rangers? _He noted the time._ At three ten in the morning? What the hell?_

The top Texas Ranger detested him and they rarely spoke, so this must be something significant. He sat up on the side of the bed and willed himself awake. "Abbott," he answered.

"Well, good mornin', Chief Inspector Abbott," Spivey greeted him in a thick Texas accent.

"Cut the crap, Franklin. What's this about?"

"Oh, the crap's just beginning, my federal friend. Seems a Hays County Sheriff's Deputy got called to the River Haven RV Park down on the San Marcos. When he got there, he found a very unhappy FBI agent – guy named Phillip Rawlings - tied to a refrigerator in one of the trailers. They called us so we'd have the pleasure of calling you, I reckon. Rawlings had hadda couple hour nap courtesy of a pistol upside his head, so he's being checked out at local hospital there in San Marcos, but he's most likely okay. His supervisor, Agent Durbin of your HAZMAT Division, has been notified and he's headed down there to see about his man."

"I'm confident Durban can handle this," Abbott grumbled. "Why have you called _me_ in the middle of the night, Spivey?"

"Whoa there, Mr. Eff Bee Eye, I'll be happy to explain further if you gimme a chance."

There was a moment of seething silence and finally Abbott squeezed out a tense, "Please go on."

"Rawlings told the deputy at the scene to notify you."

"Why would he say that?"

"According to your agent, one of your people appears to have been ab-ducted."

More silence.

"And who might that be?" Abbott was still annoyed but now he was definitely paying attention.

"Fella by the name of Patrick Jane."

"What?!"

"According to Rawlings, an assailant with a gun surprised him and Mr. Jane in the trailer – it was Jane's trailer. The bad guy said he was there for Jane, tied Rawlings to the fridge, and KO'd him. Poor bastard woke up alone and yelled for hours before somebody heard him. Hey, isn't Jane that psychic fella who broke open the corrupt cop ring out in California?"

"Yes, he is. How was Rawlings found?"

"Some resident in the trailer park came stumbling home from a hard night out and heard him hollering."

"What time?"

"'Bout twenty minutes ago."

"Thank you for calling. We're on it, Chief Spivey."

"Well, you just give us a call if you need some help on this one, ya hear?" He could hear the sarcastic smile in Spivey's voice. The Texas Rangers hadn't appreciated the FBI investigation Abbott had lead into one of their men's ties to Columbian drug runners last year.

"Thank you," Abbott replied stiffly, and punched out of the call. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Either Jane was pulling another one of his ridiculous shenanigans, or God forbid, he actually had been nabbed. Either way, this was shaping up to be a very, very bad day. Spivey was right. The crap was just beginning.

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LISBON

Lisbon awoke with a start at the sound of her phone. With a practiced motion, she reached over and pulled the phone to her ear, never moving her head from the comfort of her pillow. There had been very few of these middle of the night calls at her Sheriff's position in Washington - one of the things she had really liked about that job.

"L..Lisbon," she answered, clearing her throat.

"It's Kim Fischer, Lisbon. Sorry to wake you but we have a situation. Agent Rawlings from HAZMAT was found tied up in Jane's trailer and Jane may have been abducted."

Lisbon was instantly awake.

"What? How? When?" she said as she hopped up and turned on the light.

"We just got word. There are still a lot of unknowns, obviously. Meet us at Headquarters as soon as you can get there. Abbott will brief you and Cho on the ride down to San Marcos."

There was silence on the line while a hundred scenarios flashed through Lisbon's mind. All of them were bad.

"Lisbon?"

"On my way," she said, already slipping her free hand into the sleeve of a blouse.

"See you there," Fischer said, and hung up.

_Oh God_, thought Lisbon, as she threw on some slacks and and fumbled around for her jacket. _Oh God._

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CHO

Twenty five minutes after Cho had been awakened by Fischer's phone call, the team was flying down Interstate 35 in a company SUV. Fischer drove, Abbott rode shotgun, and he and Lisbon occupied the backseat. He glanced over at his ex-boss. Lisbon was as tense as he had ever seen her, and over the years, he'd seen her upset a lot. He could understand why, though. The guy she was dating and the guy she loved both looked to be losers in this nasty predicament.

"Here's what we know, courtesy of the Hays County Sheriff's Department," Abbott began. "A resident of the River Haven RV Park was coming in from a night out, when he heard someone calling for help from the trailer next door – Jane's Airstream. He investigated and found Agent Phil Rawlings tied to the refrigerator, and called the Hays County Sheriff's Department."

Abbott took a quick sip of his coffee before continuing. "According to the initial responding officer, Rawlings stated he had arrived at Jane's trailer just after dark, about six thirty. He and Jane were having a beer and talking. Twenty minutes later, an armed Caucasian man with dark eyes and dark hair burst into the trailer. The intruder tied Rawlings to the refrigerator with pull tie cuffs and then cold cocked him with his pistol.

Rawlings regained consciousness about nine thirty, and he was alone. He couldn't get anyone's attention until two thirty when the neighbor heard him. He's in the ER getting a CT scan, and if that's okay, he'll be released."

Cho heard Lisbon's small sigh of relief.

Abbott nodded to Fisher and she took the lead. "Here are the logistics so far. The earliest Jane could have been taken - IF that's what happened - was seven p.m.. But since that was nearly nine hours ago, there's not much point in setting a perimeter. Hays County is canvassing the trailer park to see if anybody saw anything. Maybe we can get a lead on a vehicle." Fisher then glanced toward Abbott expectantly.

There was a moment of silence before Abbott continued. "Lisbon, please don't take what I'm about to ask personally, but this issue has to be addressed."

"Sir?" she asked. "What issue?"

Cho anticipated what was coming, and Lisbon wasn't going to like it.

"We understand you've been seeing Phil Rawlings socially," Abbott began. "Is there any chance this is one of Jane's shenanigans?"

When it sunk in what he was asking, Lisbon lashed out. "Excuse me?! Are you suggesting that Jane got somebody to knock out Rawlings and is pretending to be kidnapped? Why the hell would he do that?" Cho couldn't say he blamed her much for her angry response, but he also understood that the question had to be asked.

"Jealousy?" Fischer offered.

Cho sensed that Lisbon was building steam, about to go ballistic on Fischer, when something stopped her. Instead, she gathered her wits and responded in a measured voice, "That's not a good theory. Jane wouldn't do something that would get a fellow officer injured."

"Not on purpose," Cho qualified.

"Cho, what's your take on this?" asked Fischer.

"Unlikely, but possible," he answered. Lisbon glared at him.

"Go on," said Fischer.

Cho addressed his remarks to Lisbon. "It's not impossible that Jane has feelings for you and hatched some plan to discourage Rawlings. Maybe things went wrong?"

"Jane and I have never…" she started to protest.

Cho cut in. "Just because he hasn't acted on his feelings doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Sorry, but I'm not blind, Lisbon, and I doubt you are either."

She shot him a withering look, but after a moment of reflection, reluctantly replied, "I don't believe this is one of Jane's schemes, but I can't completely rule it out. I'm 99% sure, though."

Cho agreed. "There are a lot of people in the world who have good reason to hate Jane, especially in law enforcement." He addressed his next remark forward to Fischer and Abbott. "My opinion given the information we have, is that this is most likely a real kidnapping."

"Thank you both for your candor," Abbott said diplomatically. "We will proceed under the assumption that Jane has indeed been abducted by a hostile individual, and that this is not some prank to win Lisbon's affections."

"Okay," Cho replied. Lisbon was fuming in the seat beside him, but she made no further comment. D_id she really think, after all that had been said and done, that Jane only thought of her as a friend?_ he wondered. _Did Lisbon actually buy that Jane had come back from life on an idyllic island, risking jail time, so he could work cases for the FBI?_ Sometimes, Cho mused, he was truly amazed how little he understand about the female gender, even when they were excellent cops.

Of course, he wished Lisbon wasn't caught up in this mess at all, but it wasn't within his control. All he could do was try and help get Jane back - hopefully in one piece – which wasn't looking that great right now. Nine hours was a big head start. Jane could already be out of the country. Or dead. He hoped not, partly because he did like Jane, but more importantly because he didn't want that to happen to Lisbon.

He closed his eyes and wished he had another cup of coffee.

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LISBON

It was still dark when the team rolled into the trailer park. They walked past scattered groups of gawkers dressed in everything from robes and cowboy boots to honest to God long underwear on their way to Jane's trailer. The whole area was surrounded by yellow tape, and they made a wide circle to avoid the ground where there might be helpful tire tracks. As they approached the river side of the trailer, Jane's little outdoor table and chairs came into view, sitting undisturbed under the awning attached to the Airstream.

When they ascended the three steps into the trailer, a feeling of dread settled over her. The interior looked eerie in the predawn light – so different from the warm, homey feel it had when she visited Jane just two short weeks ago. Nothing seemed out of place, at least at first glance. There were a few minor bloodstains over by the refrigerator, probably from poor Phil's head wound. The remnants of a thoroughly smashed phone littered the middle of the floor.

Cho shook his head. "Guess we don't need for Riley to ping Jane's phone."

Abbott nodded in agreement.

"Are we sure this is Jane's phone?" Lisbon asked.

The Hays County Sheriff piped up. "Your man Rawlings said the assailant took Jane's phone right off and smashed it here on the floor."

"That's not going to be much help then," Fischer stated the obvious, and Lisbon nearly smiled when Cho threw the agent a rare annoyed glance.

"This is for real," Lisbon announced. "This isn't Jane messing around."

"How do you know?" asked Abbott.

"I don't know why, exactly. I just know." She looked around the trailer carefully, searching for something that stood out. The kitchen area was untouched, and Jane's suit jacket was draped neatly over the back of a chair. Likewise, the Irish tweed quilt lay orderly and smooth on his bed at the far side of the trailer.

Lisbon ducked into the tiny bathroom. There was shampoo haphazardly sitting on the shower shelf next to a push bottle of soap. A couple of extra rolls of toilet paper sat stacked beside the commode. The top was closed, and on pure impulse, she lifted it to reveal the toilet seat.

"Oh my God," she gasped, and she heard the footsteps of the other team members as they rushed to see what she had found.

On the underneath surface of the toilet lid, now exposed as it sat opened against the tank, was an upside down version of the Red John smiley face, drawn in black marker of some sort.

"Damn," Cho muttered.

"What does this mean, exactly?" asked Fischer.

"It means we need to find Jane," Lisbon whispered, visibly shaken. "Quickly."

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Next up: Rawlings has a lot to say.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts/suggestions if you have the time.


	4. I Heard It Through the Grapevine Chap 4

I do not own The Mentalist characters, and no copyright infringement is intended. Just writing for fun, and to pass the time between episodes.

**AN:** Thanks so much for all the encouraging comments, especially from those 'guests' who I could not thank personally. I appreciate your responses enormously, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. The title, "I Heard it Through the Grapevine," is from the classic Motown song. I prefer the Marvin Gaye version, but take your pick. CCR, Gladys Knight, Buddy Miles, etc.

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FISCHER

They set up in a conference room at the Hays Co Sheriff's Department. So far, the only lead they had was from a pimple faced teenager at the RV park who'd seen a silver Econoline van sitting next to Jane's trailer, between six thirty and seven last night. The kid didn't remember the plates, but admitted he wouldn't have noticed out of state plates – they weren't unusual in a trailer park. The van was parked on a dry gravel area, which pretty much ruled out getting any information from tire tracks. That wasn't much to go on, but Wiley and the tech people were busy back at headquarters, looking for any recently purchased or stolen vehicles that matched.

Fischer was doing her best not to show it, but she was a bit unnerved. Jane was her charge, and she'd been instrumental in getting him back here to work for the FBI. She'd never lost someone in her command, and the idea of Jane being abducted and very possibly killed upset her more than she had anticipated. While she knew it wasn't her fault, that knowledge proved to be very little comfort.

Lisbon appeared to be holding up much better than she was, and that bugged Fischer. Lisbon and Jane were supposed to be such close buddies, and yet here her fellow agent was, behaving like the consummate professional in the face of a very dire situation. She was keeping such a cool head it was almost annoying. Maybe she'd just experienced Jane's antics so many times that it had rendered her unflappable.

She didn't have to time to wonder much longer, because her phone rang. Fischer answered and then addressed the team: "Agent Rawlings has been released and Senior Agent Durbin is bringing him by here. They're five minutes away". Surely Rawlings would provide some helpful information. She hoped so, or power struggles with her prima donna consultant might never be a problem again.

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LISBON

While the team sat waiting for Rawlings to arrive, the Hays County guys brought in hot coffee and pastries, God bless them. Cho pushed a bear claw down the table toward her and she fell on it like a ravenous dog. She had to stop herself from reaching for the blueberry muffin to put it aside, though, and she felt something squeeze tight around her heart.

They had barely finished their "breakfast" when Rawlings and Durbin arrived. Phil looked rough, not surprisingly, sporting a grizzly five o'clock shadow and stitches in his head.

"Sorry, Rawlings," Abbott began. "We know you've had a hell of a night. We'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

Despite his haggard physical appearance, Rawlings looked far from defeated. There was a set to his jaw that projected an entirely different state of mind. He was angry, she realized. Very angry. He sat down heavily into the seat at the end of the conference table and Cho slipped him a coffee.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a grateful sip.

"So, what happened, Rawlings?" Fischer asked, but instead of answering directly, Phil addressed his first comments to Lisbon.

"Lisbon, you might want to step out, because I've got some stuff to say about your partner that you're probably not gonna like."

She stiffened. It wasn't like she hadn't wanted to kill Jane herself many times, but there was something in Phil's tone that she immediately took exception to. "I'm sure I can handle whatever you have to say," she fired back. Fischer's raised eyebrows suggested that her tone might have been a bit harsh. She didn't care. She was sorry Phil was hurt, but she wasn't in the mood to be patronized, by Phil or anyone else.

Abbott took control of the situation. "Let's just get the facts here. Lisbon is a professional and I have no doubt she will act accordingly. Rawlings, why don't you tell us what happened?"

Rawlings looked at her and shrugged. _I warned you._

"From the beginning," Abbott emphasized. "Tell us everything."

"I ran into Jane at work yesterday – we'd never actually met – and he invited me to his place for a beer. Agent Lisbon and I had been out a few times socially, and since Jane is her partner, he said he thought it would be good for us to get to know each other, and I agreed.

After work I drove down to his trailer park. I parked in the visitors lot and walked down to his place. No trouble finding it. It was already dark, but there were plenty of lights around, and I didn't notice anything hinky, but then I wasn't looking for it, either." He took another sip of coffee, and then continued.

"Jane was sitting outside, waiting for me, I guess, and we shook hands and went inside the trailer. He got us a couple of beers. I figured we'd just sit there and shoot the shit for awhile and he would tell me I needed to treat Lisbon right – you know, the kind of stuff I'd expect a partner to say. But that's when things started to get strange. He was nothing like you described him, Teresa. He was kind of…" Rawlings hesitated, trying to find the right word. "Nervous. Serious? That's what should have tipped me off. I think that son of a bitch knew something was up, and he had asked me down there for protection or something." Rawlings' anger was building.

"Did Jane say something that made you think that?" Abbott asked.

"No. Well. Not exactly. But he picked a subject that he knew would keep me distracted."

The room waited expectantly, but the big man was clearly uncomfortable continuing.

"Please tell us what was said," Fischer prodded. "Don't leave anything out. It might be important. An agent's life may be on the line here."

Rawlings looked at Lisbon one more time. _I warned you. "_It _was_ about Lisbon. His partner. Jane said he knew we'd been on some dates, and he thought she liked me. He was very complimentary, for what it's worth, Teresa." The battered agent was talking directly to her now. "He said he could understand why I was attracted to you, because you were beautiful and tough and kind and wonderful. He said you gave him the courage to be a better person."

Lisbon's mouth dropped open momentarily, but she caught herself and concealed her shock with the best poker face that she could manage.

"He said I would never deserve you, no matter how nice of a person I was. He also said he understood the guy code of not competing with a fellow agent for a woman. Which kind of took me by surprise, because you had said you all were never a couple. He pointed out to me that he wasn't actually a fellow agent, since he was a consultant. That's when I started to get the drift."

Rawlings paused and then turned his comments back to the group. "He said he didn't begin to deserve Lisbon either, but that he hadn't come all the way back from Venezuela for nothing. That's when the smug bastard really dug in." The agent's voice got quiet. "Jane said he wasn't going to tell Lisbon that the real reason my first marriage ended wasn't because my ex hated my job, but because of my gambling. I don't do that anymore," he hastened to point out. "And then he went through a few other of my less than desirable characteristics, too. I have no idea how he knew any of that. He said…" Rawlings cleared his throat and his voice grew strong again. "He said that he was going to win Lisbon fair and square, and he just wanted me to understand that."

Lisbon bit her lip so hard she drew blood. She wanted to sink into the ground, cry, and scream all at once. Luckily, her poker face held.

"He had me totally sucked into this conversation, and that's when the bad guy busts into the trailer holding a gun on us. I think that bastard knew somebody was coming after him, and that's the real reason he wanted me there. Actually, at that point, I wondered if maybe Jane had hired him."

"Do you have any concrete evidence of that?" Fischer inquired matter of factly.

"No," Rawlings admitted, shaking his head. "But you'll see…"

"Okay, go on then. Description?" Fischer asked.

Rawlings sighed, swallowing what looked to have been a snide remark. _Like I didn't know you wanted a description of the perp._ "Dark hair, dark eyes, medium build. Black jacket over a black tee shirt. Blue jeans, black pointy toed cowboy boots.

But here's the thing." Rawlings put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Jane recognized him. I'm sure of it."

Everyone in the room's eyebrows rose at that revelation.

"The guy didn't waste any time, but he did seem surprised I was there. Right away he makes me surrender my weapon, and he stomps Jane's phone into bits. Then he looks at Jane with a wild crazy look in his eyes and asks him, 'Do you know why I'm here?'

Jane tells him 'yes,' and the guy smiles a smile that makes the hair raise up on the back of my neck." At this point Rawlings looked apologetically at Lisbon. This next part, she realized, was the part he _really_ hadn't wanted her to hear.

"Then Jane sorta loses it. Sorry Teresa. Jane starts clinging to me and nearly crying, "Don't let him take me. Save me.'"

Cho and Lisbon exchanged glances.

"Jane put his arms around you?" she asked.

"Yeah. It was pitiful. He was acting like a ten year old girl. He was begging the kidnapper to take me, too, so he wouldn't have to be alone. No backbone at all. How'd you work with this guy for ten years, Lisbon?" Rawlings was genuinely dismayed.

"So then Mr. Boots kicks Jane in the back so hard he lets loose of me and falls on the floor. While Jane is rolling around, moaning, Boots starts looking at me and I'm figuring I'm about to get whacked." The big agent took a deep breath. "Then Jane pipes up again and tells the guy that if he's not going to take me with him, that he wants Boots to kill me so I won't get to…" Rawlings paused, and then lowered his voice, "…you know…to…'do' his girlfriend."

There was complete silence in the room, and Lisbon realized everyone was holding their breath, including her. Awkward didn't begin to cover it.

"I'm not, you know…we're not…" he assured everyone, "but I'm just repeating what Jane said."

"So," Lisbon asked. "Jane asked the guy to kill you?" The wheels were starting to turn in her head, which enabled her to put the emotional aspect of the situation aside. She focused on figuring out how Jane was playing this, because his life might well depend on it.

"He did just that. I couldn't believe it! Strange thing was, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Boots just grins this evil grin, and that's when he cuffs me to the refrigerator. While Boots is doing that, Jane's getting real crazy like, desperate, and starts saying wild things."

"Wait. What kind of wild things? What did he say? Exactly." Lisbon asked, intent on getting Jane's precise words. She looked over at Cho, who was listening carefully as well.

"Teresa, Jane was begging the guy to off me!" Rawlings remained incensed. "And then Boots laughs this really creepy laugh and smacks me upside the head with his pistol. And that's all I know. I woke up about 9:30 and they were both gone."

"What did Jane say? The wild stuff?" Cho asked, ignoring the other agent's ire.

Rawlings was taken aback at Lisbon and Cho's apparent callousness, and he once again addressed his remarks to Lisbon. "Your partner asked someone to kill me, Teresa, the son of a bitch! First he whines like a coward and then that?! "

Cho and Lisbon looked at each other again, "Rawlings, you're an idiot," Cho said without inflection. "Jane probably saved your life, and may have given us a way to track him."

Lisbon nodded, and asked, "Where's your phone, Phil?" She didn't have time for his misguided anger right now.

"What? I don't know where my phone is. I figured Boots tossed it or smashed it after I was unconscious."

Lisbon tilted her head at Cho. "I'm on it," he said, and pulled out his phone. "Hey Riley, can you ping Phillip Rawlings' phone? Agent in HAZMAT." Cho flipped his phone shut. "It'll take him a few minutes," Cho said to the rest of the room. He addressed his next comment to Rawlings. "When Jane was holding on to you, he was most likely pocketing your phone."

"What?" Rawlings practically spat, not believing. "Naw. I would have felt it."

Maybe it was the effect of lack of sleep and the immense pressure she felt, but Lisbon laughed out loud. Poor Rawlings looked at her like she'd sprouted devil's horns.

"You said Jane recognized the man?" Cho continued.

"Yes. I'm sure of it."

"What, _exactly_, did Jane say, besides the part about killing you," Lisbon asked. "His very words, if you can remember them."

"I remember, 'cause it was so weird. He said he always knew he'd end up on Vulcan sitting in a high backed chair."

"On Vulcan, in a high backed chair," Cho repeated slowly, considering all the words.

"Jane referenced Star Wars?" Fischer asked.

"Star Trek," Abbott, Cho and Lisbon corrected her in unison.

"Vulcan is Spock's homeland. His home planet," Cho extrapolated.

"Spock's homeland. Scotty, beam me up? Sulu? Uhuru?" Lisbon free associated. "Kirk?"

"Vulcan was a hot planet?" Abbott offered, trying to help.

Lisbon swirled the references around in her mind, hoping some idea would pop out. Spock's homeland. Kirk. _Wait! _"What was the rest? A high backed chair?" Kirk. Homeland. Heibach. Richard Heibach. "Did the guy have both of his thumbs?" she asked Rawlings.

"What the hell?"

"It's a serious question. Did he have both of his thumbs?" she repeated.

"Yes, he had thumbs," the agent confirmed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Two of them."

She frowned for a moment and then exclaimed, "Kirkland! Bob Kirkland of Homeland Security had a twin brother who was a Red John follower. What was his first name?"

Fischer went to work on her computer, and soon had the answer. "Michael Kirkland?"

"Yes!" Lisbon said. Dark hair, dark eyes. The description fit. "Can you pull up a picture of Robert Kirkland? Homeland Security Agent. Deceased about two years ago."

"Would somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on?" Rawlings sighed. Only now did she actually feel a pang of sympathy for the guy. He was banged up, tired, and bewildered, and he had no clue what was going down. But she didn't have time to explain.

"Got the picture," Fischer said, tapping away at her keyboard.

Lisbon glanced over at it and nodded. "Show it to Phil."

Fischer slipped the computer in front of Rawlings and his eyes opened wide as saucers. "That's him. Jesus. That's him. His hair is different but, yeah."

Cho's phone buzzed. "Cho," he answered. He listened intently and then pulled out his pen and wrote in his little notebook. "4363 Sidewinder Road," he read back to Riley. "Got it. Send the live feed to us." He listened again. "Good work, Riley, thanks."

Cho turned to the team. "Riley got a ping on Rawlings' phone. It's in a rural area about ten miles southwest of Austin. He's sending the live feed. We'll have pictures soon."

Rawlings slumped in his chair and just shook his head. "You mean to tell me that Jane knew this guy and was playing him the whole time?"

"Jane didn't know him, but he recognized Michael Kirkland as a twin brother of someone he'd dealt with before. Probably cold read him and then decided to play Br'er Rabbit," she explained.

"Who's briar rabbit?" Rawlings asked.

"You need to read more," Cho observed, earning him a scowl from the man.

"Got the satellite pictures right here," Fischer noted. "And…there's a silver van parked in front of a house at the address where the phone pings. Bingo! How about that?"

"Jane must have hidden the phone in the van somewhere." Abbott said with an appreciative nod. "Or he's still in the van."

The team sprang into action, arranging vehicles, SWAT teams, and notifying the proper people. There was no time to lose. "Thank you for your help, Rawlings," Abbott said as the team filed out of the conference room. "Agent Durbin, please make sure he gets home safely, would you? He's had a rough night."

Rawlings touched Lisbon's arm as she moved past him toward the door, preoccupied with the task at hand. "I'm sorry, Teresa. What was I supposed to think?"

She nodded. "We'll talk later," she replied, not unkindly. "Jane's in trouble now."

"What was all that at the beginning then…before Kirkland showed up?" Rawlings called after her, but she kept going, pretending not to hear.

She was glad no one saw her flash a smile when she heard Cho's reply behind her. "Oh, that part was real, Rawlings. Very real."

(to be continued)

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Next up - Jane's having a bit of a rough night himself.

I'd love to know if what happened in this chapter was clear to the readers. I'm working without a beta right now, and sometimes I'm not sure what I'm describing will be clear. (it's clear to me, but I know what happened...lol) Also, did the fact that all this took place in one room drag the story?


	5. Hold On, I'm Coming - Chapter 5

I do not own The Mentalist (don't I wish?) and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm writing about the characters for fun, not profit, and my payment is measured in readers' responses.

AN: The title is taken from the Sam and Dave song, but BB King and Eric Clapton do a kickass version as well. Worth looking up on youtube. There's a bit of language in this chapter - you've been warned.

Hold On, I'm Coming

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KIRKLAND

Kirkland's brass knuckles made a satisfying thud as they connected with Patrick Jane's ribcage, and a rush of pleasure pulsed through him when he heard his subject scream. He stood over Jane and watched him struggle to breathe. The feeling was sublime. This was the man who had taken the life of Red John with his bare hands, and he, Michael Kirkland, was finally giving him what he deserved.

He waited between blows for Jane to catch his breath so the little worm would be able to scream again when he planted the toe of his boot into some deliciously tender spot. He would punish Jane again and again until he was too woozy to make a sound, and then he might take a break.

The sun would be up soon, and this was the fifth round of punishment he had inflicted upon this evil little man since they'd arrived at the house last night. While Jane's gasping slowed, Kirkland looked around at the bare room. This was a fitting place that he had prepared for his revenge. A high wattage bulb shone in the fixture in the center of the ceiling, and on the clear globe that covered it, he had drawn a smiling face. The result was a circular, smiling shadow that fell about ten feet in diameter on the floor of the room.

Jane was chained by one ankle to a steel ring he had bolted to the floor in the center of the circle. Red John's killer would learn to regret his actions while contained within the shadow of his master's symbol. Kirkland thought it was a fitting tribute.

Yes, he decided, when he had rendered Jane incapable of speech one more time, he would lie down and rest himself. The beatings were only the beginning, after all. He had much more planned. Eventually, Jane would beg to be killed, and he looked forward to savoring that moment.

Kirkland turned his attention back to the helpless man below him, who seemed to have caught his breath, and lodged a savage kick into his mid section. Jane let out a weak, strangled scream, and Kirkland felt that electric excitement course through his body once more. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him.

This was a good place to stop. He looked down at Jane, curled in a ball at his feet, clutching his stomach. Kirkland spat on his naked form, and walked into the other room. All this excitement had made him hungry.

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ABBOTT

The GPS showed two options to get to Jane's location southwest of Austin. The first was to go north up the interstate and cut west from Austin. The second was to take a more direct route consisting of a series of progressively smaller roads through the Texas countryside. The back way was a much shorter journey, miles wise, but Abbott wasn't sure the curvy route would be faster.

"Let's take the shortest route. I'm comfortable driving back roads," Fischer stated.

From the passenger's seat, Abbott narrowed his eyes at her. "You think you can get there faster this way?"

"Yes, sir. I grew up in rural Virginia. I know how to drive on country roads. The SWAT team is coming from Austin and they'll probably beat us there anyway. I think this is our fastest option."

"Very well, Agent Fischer. Proceed." As she whipped the black SUV out of the parking lot, Abbott twisted around in his seat and addressed Cho and Lisbon. "That was an impressive piece of work back there in the conference room, you two. I'm beginning to understand how you all closed so many cases for the CBI. You're a well oiled, professional machine."

"Thank you, sir," Cho spoke first. "We've worked a lot of cases together."

"We know how Jane's mind works, "Lisbon added. "Well, kind of," she qualified.

"Oh, and thank you for your professionalism back there, Lisbon. I can't imagine that was easy."

"I just want to get Jane back safely, boss," she said. "I can deal with the rest."

Abbott nodded. "The SWAT team is on its way," he reminded her. Just then, Fischer rounded a curve on their narrow road at what felt like NASCAR speed. "We _may_ get there, too," he quipped.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, sir?" asked Fischer, without taking her eyes off the road.

"No, of course not," he lied. "Drive as you see fit." He closed his eyes on the next turn and said a little prayer.

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JANE

Jane let out as much of a cry as he could muster when Kirkland's boot slammed into his belly, and the hot stabbing pain clouded his brain. His ability to control this intense discomfort was fading fast, slipping away with his concentration. He was hurting. His captor loomed above him for a few seconds, and then he felt a sticky fluid on his shoulder. _Had Kirkland just spat on him?_ Jane was indignant, despite his current situation.

Then, something wonderful happened. From Jane's position curled on the floor, he saw those big black cowboy boots disappear into the next room, and he was profoundly grateful. As the sharpest part of the pain in his belly subsided, he gingerly uncurled his body and tried to find a comfortable position so he could relax a bit.

He looked around the room. It wasn't a sophisticated set up. No drugs, no fancy instruments. Kirkland had put him in the van at gunpoint and then knocked him unconscious the same way he had KO'd poor Rawlings. Luckily, Jane had come to during the drive, though he didn't let on to his kidnapper. When the van stopped, he'd slipped Rawlings' phone out of his sock and wedged it out of sight under a floor mat. He didn't risk opening the phone to see how much life the battery had – if any. He had to hope Rawlings was as obsessive about keeping electronic things charged as the rest of the FBI.

Kirkland had marched him through the darkness into a shabby house in the middle of Texas hill country. He couldn't see a single light anywhere nearby, so he assumed they were far from any nosy neighbors' eyes. He'd done well to get rid of the phone, because Kirkland immediately stripped him of clothing and chained him in the middle of a room. Kirkland had planned this part carefully, he noted.

Jane could walk in a three foot radius around the ring, and his captor had placed a five gallon plastic paint bucket barely within his reach, presumably to use as his "facilities." The good news was, Kirkland wasn't planning on killing him right away. The more time that elapsed, the more that felt like the bad news.

He'd concentrated on reading Kirkland. Michael was not the brighter of the twins. Jane had picked up on that right away, even at the trailer. He was, however, very, very good at what he enjoyed – causing pain. A pure sadist, Jane surmised, who struggled earlier in his life, attempting to fight his own nature. No wonder brother Bob was unable to help him. When Red John came along, he freed Michael of his guilt, and in doing so, allowed the man to justify his natural sadistic tendencies.

He figured Michael hadn't taken Red John's death well, and now he was after revenge, pure and simple. Jane, of all people, certainly understood how that worked.

Michael's singular focus had allowed Jane to leave Lisbon some clues, assuming Rawlings could (and would) relate them to the team. However, the twin's talent for causing misery was proving difficult to deal with. Jane's various pain compartmentalizing techniques had worked pretty well for a time, but if he couldn't concentrate, they would cease to be of use.

Jane had devised another tactic to improve his predicament. He could see the delight in Kirkland's eyes every time he yelped or screamed. The madman got off on his victim's vocalizations of pain. So, when Kirkland began his assault, Jane let out a wail with every blow. After several hits, he would become gradually less vocal, eventually pretending he was too addled and weak to scream anymore. That took all the fun out of it for Kirkland, who would disappear into the other room for a period of time, allowing Jane to rest.

The trick was to be as convincing as possible at the beginning of a "session", and not fade so quickly as to cause Kirkland to become suspicious. This had been repeated five times now, and it was becoming progressively harder for Jane to focus. If Kirkland hadn't stopped when he did this last time, Jane would have been in danger of losing control entirely. At this point, he needed a real recovery period, not just a few minutes' breather. What he _really_ needed, was another plan.

There were different sounds coming from the other room now, and Jane suspected his captor was fixing himself something to eat. Maybe the man would even sleep, Jane hoped fervently. For all he knew, Captain America's phone might be dead, and therefore no help at all. If the agent had given Lisbon the clues, she would be looking for him by now, of course. But even if they got the clues right, it might take them a long time to locate him if the phone was dead. Maybe too long.

The sound of a mockingbird's song outside the shuttered window told him the sun was rising, which meant he had been gone nearly twelve hours. Jane took a long hard look at the reality of his situation. He was already exhausted, bruised, and significantly injured. He was sure his left wrist was broken, as well as some ribs, and he had a deep, intense pain in his right side. His left eye was swollen nearly shut. Worst of all, his testicles were well acquainted with the points of Kirkland's cowboy boots. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it together.

On the positive side, in the next room he now heard the welcome sound of Kirkland's soft snores. This was his chance, if he was going to try to escape. He tested the chain, but it was secure around his ankle. The only thing within his reach was his paint can "toilet." He must be dehydrated, he realized, because he hadn't needed it yet.

Jane gritted his teeth and wriggled over toward the can. He had to pause twice and breathe through the pain that even this small amount of movement provoked. When he had shifted close enough, he reached out with his good arm and drew the can to him. It was made of rigid, hard plastic. If he could crack off a piece, it might be sharp enough to use as a weapon. Maybe he could hide the makeshift knife and play dead, and when Kirkland came near, he would make one fierce swipe at him, slashing some important blood vessel.

It was risky, but this might be his only opportunity. Another couple of sessions and he would not have the strength to inflict enough damage on Kirkland to stop him. On the other hand, if he tried this and failed, Kirkland might be so enraged he would kill him on the spot. Jane considered how bad of a thing that might be. The pain would be gone. The guilt would be gone. Lisbon and Captain America could live happily ever after.

_No,_ he thought stubbornly, _they could not!_ A wave of fresh determination welled up inside him. He had killed Red John, he had come back from exile, and by God, now he wanted a chance at a new life with Teresa Lisbon. He was not going to lie here and let another raving lunatic take this from him, especially not this cretin. Escaping was a chance he would have to take, and he would have to be successful. He knew Lisbon was out there somewhere looking for him right now. He wanted to live. He wanted the opportunity to be a better option for her than Captain fucking America.

He laid the bucket onto its side. Then he sat up as best he could and leaned his good shoulder on the top edge. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but when he pressed his body weight down on the plastic, it gave a little crack. The sound of hope. Despite his predicament, a grim smile passed over his face. Maybe this is what moving on felt like.

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LISBON

They were fairly flying down a one lane Texas back road when Lisbon's phone buzzed. She frowned when she saw it was Rawlings' home number.

"Phil?"

"Hi Teresa."

"You're home already, aren't you?" she observed. Rawlings lived fifteen minutes south of Austin, so that made sense. "Listen, now's not a great time…" she started.

"No, it's not…It's about the case, Teresa. It may be nothing, but something doesn't feel quite right to me and I thought you all might need to know."

"Should I put you on speakerphone? It's Abbott, Fischer, Cho and me in the car."

"Yeah, sure."

Lisbon hit the button and explained to her colleagues, "Phil Rawlings says he needs to tell us something else."

"Hey," Rawlings greeted the team. "So, this may be nothing, but it's nagging at me, and I'll let you all decide."

"What is it, Rawlings?" Fischer asked as she turned the Yukon onto a gravel road.

"It's about Durbin."

"Your boss, Hank Durbin?" Abbott was surprised.

"Yes sir."

"What about him?" asked Lisbon.

"When we got into the car and left San Marcos, he seemed all…jumpy. Uneasy. Durbin isn't that kind of guy, so it was unusual. I asked him if anything was wrong and he made some remark about how he nearly lost an agent this morning. Funny thing though, I never thought he liked me very much.

I closed my eyes and scrunched down against the passenger door to rest – my head was killing me. A few minutes later, Durbin started to call somebody on his phone. I shifted in my seat, and he immediately hung up. That was weird, and it made me curious. I mean, who do you call at six in the morning, anyway? He's not married.

So I pretended to fall asleep. Did the whole slow deep breathing act and everything. A few minutes later, he makes a call again and this time he says, 'Gary, you need to wrap it up right now.' And that was it. I didn't stir, and I pretended to let him wake me up when we got to my place. I came on in, but when I looked back out at the car, he was on the phone again.

I got to thinking. The bad guy, Kirkland, was it? How did he know where Jane was living? Somebody had to tip him off, right?"

The team exchanged glances. "Anything else?" Cho asked.

"That's it, guys. It may be nothing, but it pinged my wrongometer real hard."

"We'll check it out. Thanks you for your vigilance," Abbott said.

"Good luck. Hope you find Jane," Rawlings said, and he sounded sincere.

"Thanks Phil. Go get some rest," Lisbon said before she disconnected. "What do you think, sir?" Lisbon asked Abbott.

"Cho, get your man to find out who Hank Durbin just called."

"Will do," Cho said, and proceeded to contact Riley.

"It just so happens that two or three weeks ago, Agent Durbin asked me where my psychic was going to park his trailer. He said he wanted his tarot cards read, and I thought he was just giving me crap about Jane. Coincidence?" Abbott wondered.

Lisbon knew what Jane would have said about that.

Abbott's phone rang, and he listened to his caller for a moment before he spoke. "Good work. We'll be there in…" he strained to see the GPS, "…ten minutes. Get a command post set up out of sight of the house, and if you think it's appropriate, go ahead and position the team." Abbott disconnected and informed the rest of the car, "SWAT team is on location."

Lisbon was finding it hard to wait. While she knew an FBI SWAT team was a fantastic thing to have on their side, she wanted to be there. She took a deep breath and willed herself to stay calm.

In five minutes, Cho had information from Riley. "Agent Durbin called a phone registered to Gary Smith at 6:10. Riley pinged Smith's number at approximately the same location where Rawlings' phone pinged – right where we're headed. He's running Gary Smith as an alias to see if he can find something that matches Kirkland's description."

"Oh hell," Abbott sighed, and pulled out his phone again. "Agent Jackson, good morning. Please send a team to apprehend and arrest Hank Durbin for accessory to kidnapping. Consider him armed and dangerous." There was an exclamation at the other end loud enough for the whole car to hear. Abbott didn't raise his voice. "Yes, Agent Hank Durbin of HAZMAT. I'll explain as soon as I can. We have an ongoing situation right now."

The instant Abbott hung up with Jackson, he called the SWAT team. "I have new information. The target may be aware that our team is on the way," he cautioned. "You have permission to proceed if you suspect our man is in immediate danger."

"We're almost there, sir. Two miles." Fischer said.

"I hope we're not too late," Lisbon whispered from the back seat. Cho didn't look at her, which meant he thought they probably were. She reached up and closed her hand around the cross on her necklace.

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JANE

Jane was placing the paint can over to the side of the circle, arranging it to conceal the missing piece as best he could, when he heard a phone ring in the other room. Kirkland stirred, but didn't answer. Jane sighed with relief and moved back toward the center of the circle as quickly as his damaged body would allow. The constant ache from his injuries was maddening, especially since his multiple bruised places had begun to swell. He broke out into a sweat from the effort, but he needed to get into place quickly and be ready. Kirkland could wake at any moment.

Jane situated himself on his back, with his feet facing the door where Kirkland would enter. It would be difficult for his captor to see the rise and fall of Jane's chest from that angle and this plan only worked if Kirkland got close enough to see if he was dead.

He was extremely vulnerable in this position, lying face up, but he hoped that would serve to make Kirkland less suspicious that he was faking. He laid his hands down at his sides on the floor, and under his right forearm he concealed the nine inch long piece of hard plastic. One end of it was sharp enough to do the necessary damage, if he could manage to supply enough force and land an accurate jab.

His hope was that Kirkland would lean close to check if he was breathing – maybe even try to feel for his pulse. When he did, Jane would ram his weapon as hard as he could into Kirkland's throat. Not his most elegant plan, but the only one he had available at the moment.

As Kirkland continued to snore in the adjacent room, Jane began to shiver. The perspiration from his exertion only served to make him cold now that he was still. He pushed his thoughts elsewhere, trying to distract himself from his physical discomforts.

This mess had made him certain of _one thing_. If his plan worked, and he got out of this alive, he wasn't going to waste any more time. He would bare his soul to Teresa Lisbon, let her know his feelings, and then let _her_ decide what she wanted. Because right now, the worry he might never have the chance to tell her how he felt weighed on his mind more heavily than the actual thought of dying.

The phone in the other room rang again, and this time Kirkland answered. "What? Are you sure? That son of a bitch!' he screeched. "A phone?" There was the thump of boots onto the linoleum. _Kirkland slept with his boots on? _ Maybe it was a result of the stress of his dire circumstances, but Jane nearly laughed out loud.

"Call them off!" Kirkland yelled. "What do you mean you can't? Destroy my phone? You can go straight to hell, you traitor!" Something hit the wall hard, and he suspected it was Kirkland's phone.

Jane knew this was it. He closed his eyes and did his best to temper the motions of his breathing. Kirkland burst through the door and stormed over to Jane, who lay unmoving.

"You think you're so smart, don't you? Funny, you don't look like much of a genius right now." His rage had completely unhinged him. He pulled back his leg and planted a savage kick into Jane's exposed thigh. It took every ounce of control he had not to react, but he was able to lie limp, waiting.

Jane's lack of response dulled Kirkland's rage enough to make him realize that his prisoner might actually be dead. The man bent down and reached toward his neck with his hand, just as Jane had hoped. He gathered everything he had and drove his homemade weapon upward, toward Kirkland's throat. He heard the rip of tissue and felt warm liquid drops on his chest. Kirkland pulled back and stood up, crying out in shock and pain.

Jane knew Kirkland's next reaction would be violent, so he used what strength he had left to roll over as quickly as he could, trying to protect himself. His movement was desperate and uncontrolled and too many tender places landed hard against the floor as he flipped over. Excruciating pain shot through him, and everything went black.

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I would lie and say I'm sorry about the cliffie, but this is a suspense type story, so what do you expect? LOL Thanks for your kind responses to this story, and thanks for reading! I'm thinking there will be two more chapters. One to wrap this up and one for the fluff we deserve for getting through this.


	6. Misty - Chapter 6

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I don't own these characters, and no copyright infringement is intended. Thanks to Mr. Heller for creating them.

AN: Thanks so much for reading and for the fun reviews. This chapter title, Misty, is taken from the jazz standard – my favorite version is Ella Fitzgerald's.

"Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten in a tree,

And I feel like I'm clinging to a cloud,

I can't understand,

I get misty, just holding your hand…"

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_Preface: When we last left our team, they were headed down Texas back road to meet a SWAT team at the location where Kirkland held Jane captive, and Rawlings had let them know that his boss, Durbin, had probably tipped Kirkland off that they were on their way…._

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FISCHER

Fischer glanced in the rear view mirror to take note of the monstrous cloud of dust that trailed them. She was pushing the limits of safe speed on this gravel road, but she thought it was justified. While she was focused to the rear, she also noticed that Lisbon was sitting with her eyes closed, holding the cross on her necklace, mouthing silent words. Given the dire circumstances at hand, Fischer could hardly begrudge her a moment of prayer. The reality of the situation was unspoken, but understood by all of them. If Kirkland now knew they were on to him, and his goal was revenge, they would most likely find Jane dead, whether they caught Kirkland or not.

For several weeks Fischer had been observing Lisbon, trying to figure out how she controlled Jane so effectively at the CBI. She'd suspected all along it was more a personal thing than a professional one. However, Lisbon had proved to be smart and well read. Several times, especially this morning, Jane's first demand had showed what a cool head she had in a crisis, and Fischer had come away with nothing but admiration for her colleague. Maybe Jane had wanted to work with Lisbon because of some sort of feelings he had for her, but he must also have known she was an excellent cop.

Fischer turned north, pulling back onto a paved road, and fairly flew over those last two miles. They rounded the next curve with squealing tires and the makeshift command station finally came into view. When she halted the Yukon near the lead SWAT team van, the rest of the team was out of the vehicle before she even had it in park.

The SWAT team chief, Grant Perkins, greeted them tersely. "The team is in place around the house and we're getting a snake in for a look." He had a laptop already set up on the hood of his vehicle. "We should have a visual soon."

A fiber optic snorkel camera would be slipped under a door or through a crack somewhere, so that the team could see what was happening in the room before they committed to entry. The verbal report from onsite came just as a picture from the feed flashed onto Perkins' screen in front of them.

"Camera is through the front entry. Looking into a kitchen area. There's a cot set up with some blankets. Appears it's been used. No sign of a perp or a victim, but I can see food on the counter. There's a light in the next room but I can't see anything through the door from here."

"So no visuals into the other room?" Perkins asked his man at the house.

"Not from this site, sir, but we've located another entry point for the snake into the next room."

Fischer glanced at the rest of the team. Tense but stoic, they awaited the new picture, and soon it appeared. The first view inside the adjacent room was the light on the ceiling. A creepy smiley face covered the globe, but the SWAT team quickly repositioned the camera, and a wave of nausea rose in her as the officer explained what he saw.

"Two men down, no movement. Looks like one of the men is lying across the other at a ninety degree angle."

Perkins looked at Abbott, who nodded decisively.

"Go!" he said, giving his team permission to storm the house.

They were in quickly. "Sir, two men on the floor, one lying over the other. The top one matches the description of Kirkland. Dark hair, dark clothes, cowboy boots. There's a second man lying face down underneath him – looks like Abbott's man. There's a lot of blood."

Fischer's heart sank. Jane was dead. They were too late. She saw Lisbon's hand rise slowly to cover her mouth.

There was static on the line, and then the report resumed. "No pulse on the perp – looks like his throat has been cut."

Cho's eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

"Get him off the victim," the SWAT agent instructed his men, and then continued his report. "We've got a white male matching the description of the kidnap victim, Patrick Jane. He's been stripped of clothes and he's chained to the floor by one leg. Oh, man."

"No," Lisbon whispered.

There was more static. "Wait a minute. I'm getting a pulse! This one's alive. We need an ambulance down here, fast. And bolt cutters. Bring some bolt cutters from the truck, Rivers. Let's turn him over. Langford, get me a blanket from the other room. Get him covered up."

Lisbon looked at her boss with desperation in her eyes, and Fischer understood immediately. She dug the keys from her pocket and shot them to Lisbon, who turned and sprinted for the SUV.

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JANE

When Jane came to, he was face down on the floor, struggling to breathe. His ribs hurt, but it was the weight on top of him that was the real problem. Try as he might, he didn't have the strength left to lift, pull, or otherwise remove Kirkland's body, which was draped crossways across his back.

His captor was dead, he was sure of that. But if he didn't get help soon, Jane knew he would be joining him. The lack of oxygen was making mush of his thoughts, and he couldn't seem to reason clearly. Not that any ingenious solution to his predicament existed. This would be a cruel irony, he realized, to successfully stop Kirkland, only to asphyxiate underneath his dead body.

That's when he heard a crash, and men's voices, shouting. Soon the weight was gone, and he gasped delicious lungfuls of air, which simultaneously awakened the pain in his ribs. Then there were hands on him, rolling him over. His body screamed from the pain of the movement and he began to shiver. There were more voices, but they seemed far away and garbled. Jane felt something cover him, and he wondered if he was dying. He tried to focus, to open his eyes, to speak, but he felt so far away.

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LISBON

Lisbon gunned the Yukon down the half mile of road and skidded to a stop in front of house, right beside the silver van. She ran into the building, flashing her badge, but no one tried to stop her. She wondered if Abbott had warned them. He must have.

Jane was lying face up on the floor, and they had covered him chin to knees with a blanket. The left side of his face was bruised and swollen, and dried sweat caked his hair. A couple of men from the SWAT team were busy cutting the chain from his bare ankle.

She knelt beside him. "Jane?"

He didn't respond, and his breathing was raspy and labored. She swallowed hard. Just because he was still alive didn't mean he would stay that way. If the condition of his face was any clue, Jane had been through hell.

She saw Kirkland's body lying over to the side with a gaping hole in his neck.

"Did Jane do that?" she asked the SWAT agents, motioning toward the dead man.

"Appears so." They pointed to a piece of plastic lying on the floor. "Must have broken it off that bucket, I'm guessing," said one agent, who tilted his head toward the paint can. The second agent repositioned Jane's leg so they could get a better cut on the chain, and Jane groaned softly.

"Jane?" she spoke to him again and got no response, so she reached down and took his hand into hers. It was cold and clammy – not good. Maybe he could hear her. "You're gonna to be okay, Jane. Just hang in there. The ambulance is on the way. Okay? You with me?"

Jane made some garbled sound. And then his fingers tightened ever so slightly around hers.

"Jane?" she repeated. He tightened his fingers again.

She wiped a stray tear from her face with her other hand. "It's going to be all right," she reassured him. It had to be.

Abbott, Fischer, and Cho arrived just as the ambulance did. Lisbon reluctantly released Jane's hand, and stepped back so the EMT's could attend to him. She turned around to face the rest of her team.

"How is he?" Abbott asked.

"Alive. He could hear me. He squeezed my hand."

Behind Lisbon's back, the paramedics pulled back the blanket covering Jane so they could evaluate his injuries. "Jesus!" Abbott exclaimed at the sight of him, and all three of them looked away quickly.

Lisbon whirled back toward Jane and got a glimpse of his naked, battered body as they replaced the blanket. He was a mass of bruises, and covered in blood.

One of the agents who had successfully cut the chain off of Jane's leg rose to address Abbott. "John Erlanger, sir."

"Abbott," he said, nodding at the man. "Good work. Thank you."

"Yes, sir. Looks like your man was chained here and badly beaten. It appears he was able to come up with a makeshift weapon out of a piece of bucket, though, and somehow slit the perp's throat. Good thing, too." The unsaid verdict was, yes, they would have been too late. The agent motioned upward toward the globe that was casting the circular shadow over the room. "I'd turn off that bulb and get rid of that creepy face, but the EMT's need the light." And with that, everyone looked back at Jane.

The emergency crew had finished their cursory exam, and Jane now had an IV in his unbroken right arm, and an oxygen cannula in his nose. When the paramedic lifted the injured man's left arm to try and put a splint on it, he began to flail his right arm in a clumsy, weak attempt to fight them away.

"Mr. Jane," one of the EMT's said, "Please let us help you. We're here to take you to the hospital and we want to stabilize your arm. We think it's broken." Frustrated, one of them tried to hold his broken arm still, and he let out a raspy cry of pain.

Lisbon was at his side in an instant. She grasped his right hand, and tried to calm him. "Jane. Jane, listen to me. It's Lisbon. It's going to be okay." Jane stilled at the sound of her voice. "Listen to me. Kirkland is dead. These people are here to help you. Your arm is broken and they need to splint it. It might hurt, but you need to stop fighting them."

One of the EMT's tried to lift his bad arm again and Jane pulled back once again.

"Jane!" She knew he could hear her. "Hold still or I'll kick your ass." While the EMT looked a little shocked, Jane stopped moving. And on the side of his face that wasn't swollen, the corner of his mouth turned up in a faint, but unmistakable smile.

"Will you behave?" she added gently, but she was grinning like a fool. He squeezed her hand again, and she was certain he gave her the tiniest of nods. She stayed there, holding his hand, until the EMT's had the splint in place. Soon they had Jane on the stretcher, and she let him go as they rolled him out toward the ambulance.

The team trailed the stretcher out of the house, and Lisbon looked expectantly at Fischer and Abbott.

"Go," said Fischer. "We'll drop by the hospital after we finish up here." Lisbon handed the keys back to her boss and trotted toward the waiting ambulance.

"Well," Lisbon heard Fischer remark as she climbed into the passenger's seat of the vehicle. "So that's how she managed Jane all those years?"

Lisbon looked out of the window at her team as the ambulance rolled onto the road, and she was sure she saw Cho smiling.

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Next chapter: The payoff for sticking with this story. Thanks for reading.


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